


The Aftermath of Jace's Death.

by ErykahChanel



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Divergence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Post Episode: S02E20 Beside Still Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErykahChanel/pseuds/ErykahChanel
Summary: When news of Jace Herondale's death spreads, it sends shockwaves throughout the entire shadow world, but none are more affected than Alec Lightwood, who's chosen to deal with his grief in an unexpected way.





	The Aftermath of Jace's Death.

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by an anonymous Tumblr user a few weeks ago. Enjoy!

Days passed.

Weeks.

A month.

Alec grunted and huffed as he sprinted through the trees, gritting his teeth as the rough branches tore at his clothes, scraping against his skin. His entire body ached, and there was fire in his lungs, but still, he ran.

The air was cooler, here; fresher. He liked to open his window and sit beneath it, letting the gentle breezes and soft ramblings of nature consume him for a few minutes. Everything about this place was different, but he’d grown to appreciate it. 

The feeling of dirt and grass beneath his shoes instead of concrete; the sound of crickets chirping throughout the night instead of sirens and trains; the stillness of the countryside instead of the bustle of the city.  

He ran until he reached the edge of the woods, and stopped once he was in sight of the house. He heard that familiar sound, and cursed silently. 

Panting, followed by the scampering of paws. 

A large wolf trotted up beside him, raising his large head to growl at Alec expectantly. 

“I’m fine, Luke.” Alec murmured before walking away, tightening his grip on his bow. 

As soon as his head was turned, he heard rustling, and saw a soft green light glowing around him as Luke transformed. The next time he heard walking, he knew that Luke was on two legs, rather than four. He jogged to catch up to Alec, wearing nothing but a faded pair of jeans. 

“Let me guess,” Alec sighed. “Cleo called?” He kept his eyes forward, refusing to look over at Luke. 

“Of course she called,” Luke said, still catching his breath as he kept up with Alec’s long strides. “You scared the hell out of her the other day.” 

Alec frowned, but said nothing. 

That night at the Institute, when he felt a pain more intense than anything he’d experienced in his life, his entire world changed. He’d looked down to find his rune gone, and knew the worst chapter of his life had only just begun. 

Jace’s death had left a gaping hole in the world of the Shadowhunters, but no one was more greatly affected than Alec.

After donning his white suit and fighting to keep from falling to pieces at the funeral, Alec felt like he was suffocating. He couldn’t stand to be at the Institute without seeing Jace in every corner, wearing that cocky grin, giving him hell. He couldn’t look at Clary without seeing Jace at her side, leaning over to kiss her cheek, or gazing at her adoringly. He couldn’t bear to lie in bed at night, rubbing his side absentmindedly, feeling constant, sudden, painful sensations comparable to literal tugs on his heart. He couldn’t bear closing his eyes, and feeling as if he were truly alone for the first time in over a decade.

It wasn’t that Alec had something to run away from; he’d feel Jace’s absence no matter which corner of the earth he decided to hide. He needed place to run  _to_. 

A place to deal with his feelings free of scrutiny or judgement in ways the Institute wouldn’t allow. 

He couldn’t do that with Izzy’s eyes, wide and sad, following his every move. He couldn’t do that with Clary’s sobs ringing in his ears night after night as she cried herself to sleep in Jace’s bedroom. He couldn’t even do that with Magnus’ loving gaze as he remained slightly aloof, trying to give Alec the space he craved and deserved, yet wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and take his pain away. 

They meant well - of this, he was sure - but he was sick of people telling him how to act and how to feel after the death of  _his_ parabatai. What did any of them really know, anyway?

How could anyone even begin to judge Alec’s behavior after Jace’s death? After he was expected to continue living his life as if a part of his soul hadn’t died? After feeling his heart being crushed into a millions of irreparable pieces? None of them could. 

When the funeral was over with, and dozens of Shadowhunters lined up to return to Idris, Luke was the one to lay a hand on Alec’s shoulder, silently letting his presence be felt. Talking with Luke helped in the beginning, but Alec knew that he too couldn’t truly understand. Luke’s parabatai had turned on him. 

Alec’s hadn’t. 

Valentine was killed  _after_ he and Luke were no longer bonded; Valentine had been the one to sever it when he attempted to have the wolves kill Luke, which is why he became a werewolf in the first place. 

Jace hadn’t done anything like that. He’d simply died, and left Alec alone. 

When Luke asked Alec what he wanted to do, he didn’t have an answer for him. All he could do was sit and stare at the rune on the floor, and remember standing on it as a teenager, locking hands with Jace as they recited the oath that would link them for what they’d hoped would be a lifetime. 

 _Entreat me not to leave thee,_   _Or return from following after thee— For whither thou goest, I will go,_   _And where thou lodgest, I will lodge._   _Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God._ _Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried._ _The Angel do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me._

Unlike the others, Luke hadn’t pressed him when he saw him sitting on the floor, red eyed and deadly silent. He stood off to one side, and gave Alec all the time he needed. 

After a few days of roaming the halls, numb to everything except the pain, Luke approached him once more, and mentioned the farmhouse. He’d gone there after he turned, and although it was rough, he eventually found his way back. That was all Alec needed to hear. 

He didn’t pack a bag. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He simply grabbed his bow and quiver, and told Luke he was ready. 

 

The first few weeks at the farmhouse were the worst. 

Alec was used to cold, unforgiving floors; the constant murmur of activity at the Institute; the soft glow of his desk light as he sat flipping through books. The farmhouse was warm, and bright, and in another lifetime, he may have called it home. 

Cleo was a bit confused when Luke showed up with a weary Alec, but had no issues with him being there. She kept to herself most of the time, vowing to “give that beautiful boy some room to grieve”. Alec was unsettled initially, but the second Luke left with promises of returning to check on him later, he let his walls crumble. 

He’d lost track of how many times Cleo had crept into his room and laid down beside him, wrapping her arms around him as he cried to the point of exhaustion. He hadn’t known how to react to her motherly embrace the first time; Maryse had raised him to be strong. She was never there to hold him when he fell apart, because he’d never been  _allowed_ to fall apart. 

If he got knocked down, he’d been trained to get back up. If he was struck, he was instructed to strike back twice as hard. Discipline was what had kept him grounded all these years, not weeping and sniveling like a child. 

Thankfully, Cleo never spoke when she held Alec. She saw so much of her brother in him, it moved her. So, when she lied in her own bedroom and heard Alec shuffling around at two in the morning, she knew to get up and find him, and hug him. 

True to his word, Luke showed up once every couple of weeks to see how Alec was holding up. He was paler than Luke had ever seen him, and Cleo mentioned it was difficult to get him to eat, or go outside, but she was working with him. Luke never mentioned any of this to Alec when he spoke to him. He only left him with the same parting words before each departure.

_You’re gonna make it through this, Alec._

Alec heard him loud and clear, but the words never stuck. The only way out was through - that had been instilled in him since birth - but he didn’t see a way out of this. 

Not this time. 

 

A couple of months went by, and Luke found himself having to come to the farmhouse several times a  _week_. Cleo had contacted him, terrified and in a frenzy after waking up to find that Alec wasn’t anywhere in the house. She called out to him over and over, and got no response. It wasn’t until she went outside that she found him. 

He’d been up on the roof, sitting with his hands bloodied and raw from firing what Cleo said looked to be about a hundred arrows, scattered across the yard, and dotting the tree trunks just beyond the perimeter of the house. He wasn’t speaking, he was only sitting. Sitting, and trembling, with tears in his eyes. 

She asked Luke to stop by more often, feeling his presence had more to offer than hers. 

Back at the Institute, Izzy was worried sick. She’d been calling and texting Alec from the time her eyes opened each morning, to the time she laid down to sleep for the night, all to no avail. She was reminded of her struggle with the yin fen, and how she’d ignored him reaching out to her, but pushed those thoughts out of her head before they could take root. Alec wouldn’t do anything like that. 

Alec was better than that. 

Deep down, she knew he’d call back when he was ready, but until then, all she could do was keep calling, and hoping for the best.

 

Clary was beside herself with grief. She’d grown to love Alec as the older brother she never had. He could be a real hardass at times, always in the background, keeping people in line, but he was one of the most caring, loyal people she knew. As much as Jace’s death pained her, she knew it had to be a million times worse for Alec. She may have lost the man she loved, but her sorrows would come to pass - she’d fall in love again someday. Alec had lost a part of himself, and he’d never get it back. 

Magnus was alone in his loft, staring down at one of Alec’s shirts as he tried to track him unsuccessfully for the hundredth time. He’d been caught in the cycle for months, and refused to give up. It hurt like hell to have Alec up and leave without saying a word to anyone, especially to him, but Magnus kept the faith. Alec was coming back - he had to - but the frustration of not knowing if he was somewhere over water, using a rune to block his location, or if he’d gone off alone to do something drastic was tearing Magnus apart, slowly but surely. Yet and still, he remained vigilant. 

He nodded and smiled; answered all the right questions when asked how he was doing; assured everyone that no, he swore he hadn’t heard anything from Alec. More than anything, he wished they’d stop asking, because each time they did, it only reminded him of the painful void in his life that had developed after Alec left. 

Magnus folded the shirt and gently laid it on his dresser, running his fingers over the material before going off to bed. Alec was coming back.

He had to.

 

The months droned on, and an eerie silence had fallen over Institute. With Jace dead, and their leader nowhere to be found, everyone was on edge. When Luke swung by to call a meeting, he was met with confused faces and furrowed brows. 

He made his rounds and got everyone who was important to Alec, one by one, and gathered them around the same table Alec held his cabinet meetings to deliver a message from Alec. 

“A message from Alec?” Maryse brought a hand to her chest as Izzy leaned into her. “You’ve spoken to him?” It was difficult for Luke to sit there, seeing all their worried faces, and keep the unspoken promise he’d made to Alec. 

If he told them where he was, they’d find a way to get to him, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not when he’d made so much progress. Not when he was this close to making it through.

Not when the worst was over.

“He’s coming home soon.” Was all Luke said. 

The silence at the table was profound, yet short lived. 

_Why hasn’t he called?_

_Why haven’t we been able to track him?_

_Why didn’t he send a fire message?_

“Are you saying you’d believe a burnt scrap of paper over me, right here, in the flesh, telling you what I heard straight from Alec’s mouth?” Luke raised an eyebrow. 

Izzy was the first to weep tears of joy. She just sat with her hands clasped in front of her, looking up and smiling as hot tears fell down her cheeks. Maryse turned to throw her arm around Magnus to shed some tears of her own. Their boy was alright, and he was coming home. Clary covered her mouth to muffle a cry, and Simon was there with an arm around his best friend, knowing how badly she’d longed for his return as well. 

Luke’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he checked it discretely. 

A message from Alec.

 _Thank you._  

He smiled, and tucked his phone away before promising to let them know if he heard anything else, and saying his goodbyes. Once he was gone, the joy and relief in the room was immeasurable. There were still unanswered questions about Alec’s whereabouts, and why Luke had been the one to know if he was even alive, but those could wait. For now, they had to prepare themselves for what lie ahead. 

Their world will never be the same, but it’ll be a lot better when their beloved Shadowhunter is back where he belongs. Right there in New York, surrounded by his loved ones. 

_Alec was coming **home**._


End file.
